Growing Pains
by Transformersfan123
Summary: Sequel to Side Effects. The time when Silverstreak got along with Optimus was long ago. Nobody seems to have enough time for him anymore. Even Bee's growing distant. When Silverstreak's life on Earth is bleaker than it has ever been, something happens that throws him into another adventure. It will further change him, and the way mechs view him forever.
1. Tension

Well, here's the new sequel to Side Effects. I renamed it because the entire plot changed in my head. I could not work the femme angle, so I changed it.

As a second note, I really, really, really need to know where you guys want this to go. I know the major events I want to happen, I just need minor events to get them there. What do you guys want to see happen?

Enjoy. :)

* * *

Silverstreak leaned against a tree, his pure blue eyes glittering in amusement as he watched Mikaela and Leo chase their naked three year old son around. A soft chuckle escaped him when the boy, named Joseph, ran squealing into his arms. Mikaela and Leo stopped in front of them panting, and the former glared vehemently.

"Why does he run to you?" Mikaela asked finally, straightening up with her hands on her hips.

"Because I don't threaten him with baths," Silverstreak replied with a smile.

Mikaela scowled and Leo laughed. It had been a little under five years since he had returned to Earth to find her married off to his best friend. The blow was greatly lessened by the fact that he was no longer human, but it had still stung bitterly for a while.

"Sam, you're a bad influence for Joseph!" Mikaela finally growled, her eyes flashing.

"Then I've accomplished my goal," Silverstreak replied with a lopsided grin. "And don't call me by my Earth name."

The silver boy hated using his Earth name. After his parents had disowned him, he had requested that everybody call him by his Cybertronian name. There was a period of grumbling, but everybody eventually consented to it. Most of the new recruits didn't even know who Samuel James Witwicky was; they only knew Silverstreak, the frighteningly human looking transformer who could do amazing things. They didn't like him very much and were terrified every time they came into contact with him, skittering away as fast as they were able.

Though that hurt the youngling, he wasn't too offended; or at least, he didn't show it. He knew that they were leery of all the Autobots, all except the older ones who had worked with them for years. Any time the whispered comments and frightened looks _did_ hurt him to the point of showing it—in rather violent ways—his guardian was there to offer him comfort and reassuring words.

Mikaela was different than the other humans, though. She wasn't friendly and understanding like William and Robert were. Not anymore. But, then again, she wasn't frightened of him like the rookie troops were. Her comments were never censored or whispered, either; they were loud, personal, and cruel in the way that only an ex-friend could make them. And judging by the spark in her chocolate eyes, he was about to be hurt again.

"Oh, that's right," she said coldly. "I forgot that you're too much of a freak to use an Earth name."

Silverstreak tried to ignore the spike of pain that made his energon run cold. He tried to push down the anger that was triggered from the hurt. He tried to keep the electricity from snapping at his fingers. He tried to stop the deep growl that ground out of his throat. He tried all these things, but failed at every one of them.

Before he could step forward, Leo was in between them. "She didn't mean it, Silverstreak!" he cried, holding his hands out in a pleading gesture.

Calm leaked through him, but disappeared with three words from Mikaela: "Yes I did."

Silverstreak saw red and lunged, shoving Leo away.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Silverstreak sat with his arms crossed, anger practically radiating from him. Optimus sat at his desk, his fingers twined together as he stared intently at the youngling boy in front of him. The stare was rather nerve racking, Silverstreak thought as he tensed even more, as it seemed to look through his very spark. He'd had many mechs tell him that about Optimus' gaze. The only difference there was between Optimus' gaze on him and on them was that with them the Autobot leader was right when searching their intentions; with him, Optimus was almost always wrong. And he never listened to realize why.

The Autobot leader shifted and sat back. "How many times must I tell you that you need to control your temper?" he finally asked with exasperation in his voice.

"It's not my fault," the youngling said without emotion, knowing he wouldn't be believed again. "Besides, she deserved it."

"You broke her arm, cracked three of her ribs, and dislocated her shoulder," Optimus said in a low voice; controlled anger that made the youngling's spark pulse faster at the very sound.

Silverstreak couldn't stop the small smile that curled his lips at the thought. "Yes. Yes I did."

"That's nothing to smile about!" Optimus growled angrily, his optics flaming. "You could have killed her! You don't seem to realize you're so much stronger than any humans!"

"I realize it," Silverstreak growled, his optics flicking up to glance at the imposing Prime. "_She_ doesn't, though."

"It's not her responsibility to control _your_ temper," Optimus scolded.

"You won't believe me when I tell you I've tried," Silverstreak muttered dully.

"Try harder," Optimus said sternly. "You can't just keep going around hurting humans. It gives a bad impression of us."

"Of _us?_" Silverstreak asked in shock. "Really? Since when have _you_ gotten involved in anything that happens to me? The only time you care is when I hurt somebody. You know what? Frag off. I don't need you to tell me what I should and shouldn't do when you don't even give me a chance."

Silverstreak leaped from the desk to the floor, the door opening for him as he shocked it. He walked through the halls miserably, searching for somebody, _anybody_ to talk to. He was lucky. He ran into First Aid.

"Hey Aid," he said darkly.

"Not now, Silverstreak. I'm busy."

That hurt. So it was going to be one of the days when nobody wanted anything to do with him. Tears of anger threatened to escape, but he forced them down and headed to his room. The door opened and he was even more disappointed to see that Bumblebee was nowhere to be found. Again. He leaped onto the berth and flopped down, curling up beneath his cloak. At least he could sleep it off.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A sharp poke to his side woke him. He groaned and forced his eyes open to see yellow. Bumblebee was kneeling by the berth, peering at him with concerned optics. Silverstreak glared at him then turned away, intent on ignoring the big yellow mech.

"Sam," he crooned softly. "Don't be angry with Optimus. He means well."

"Yeah. That's why he takes a stab at my spark every time I talk to him. Might I just say he has brilliant aim," Silverstreak muttered bitterly.

"Talk to him, Sam. Tell him how you feel. Tell him why you do these things."

"He doesn't listen, Bee."

"Ask him to," Bumblebee said sternly. "And he will listen. I promise he will. And if you don't, I'll talk to him for you, and you don't want me to do that. He doesn't take well to his friends not trusting him."

"Gee whiz, why in the Pit wouldn't I trust him?"

Bumblebee sighed and scooped his charge up, cradling him tenderly against his chest. The yellow mech wished the boy wasn't so hot-tempered sometimes. It made things so much more difficult than they needed to be. Any mech who had been under Optimus' command would know they could go and tell him what was on their sparks. Silverstreak was one of the stubborn mechs that would hold it in until something went bad. Bumblebee didn't want something to go bad. It didn't end very well for the stubborn mech most of the time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Silverstreak avoided Optimus and Mikaela for days, too angry to even be near them. Leo was alright and so was Joseph, but he knew Mikaela would just get him in trouble again. He hated it. He had successfully avoided her yet again when a deep voice spoke behind him.

"Ah, Silverstreak, there you are. Please, come here."

Silverstreak turned and didn't bother hiding his displeasure, but he obeyed and stood in the lowered hand. The mech carefully lifted him up and the youngling leapt onto the broad shoulder. He sat there and refused to look at Optimus as the mech started walking again. There was an icy silence for a while, broken by a sigh from Optimus.

"Silverstreak, I want only the best for you, but you continuously disobey my orders. Whenever you can, it seems."

Silverstreak scowled and spun to face the big mech, feeling his anger rise once again. "If you wanted what's best for me, you'd listen to what I'm trying to tell you! But you don't. You haven't since I became this, this FREAK!"

"Silverstreak, listen to me!"

"No, _you_ listen!"

"I am Prime. You listen to me first," Optimus said sternly.

"Oh, now you're pulling rank on me?!"

"You've left me no choice. I need you to listen, not talk right now. I will give you a chance to speak if you only let me talk first."

Silverstreak's anger exploded and the next thing he knew, Optimus was on the ground, spasming as electricity sparked through him. Guilt and shame immediately rushed through Silverstreak, along with an undertone of fear. He connected to his comm. link and contacted Ratchet and First Aid, telling them to hurry, then ran out of the room and down the hall. He nearly ran into Kup and skidded around him, making the mech start.

"Silverstreak?" he asked, sounding confused and surprised.

The youngling rushed into the rec room, where many of the mechs were, and leaped up onto a table where Perceptor was, huddling against the scientist.

"Silverstreak!" Perceptor exclaimed, though he didn't sound angry. "What's gotten into you?"

Silverstreak muttered against the warm red metal what he'd done and Wheeljack leaned over from the other side of the table and arched his optic ridges.

"You did what to Optimus?"

"I…I kinda lost my temper and…you know what happens when I lose my temper."

"You…electrocuted Prime?" Wheeljack asked, amusement and horror mixed into his voice.

"Yes," Silverstreak sighed, looking very ashamed of himself.

"Silverstreak!" a voice snapped and Ironhide walked into the room. "You attacked Optimus?! What is wrong with you?!"

"I didn't attack him on purpose!" Silverstreak whined as every optic in the room was suddenly focused on him.

"But you did attack him?" Prowl asked from a corner of the room.

Silverstreak was silent for a moment then nodded. "I guess you could call it that," he admitted miserably.

Ironhide strode up to him and picked him up none too gently. "You are coming with me. Optimus wants to talk with you. And this time, I'm going to be watching."

"I don't want to talk with him! All he does is-"

"You are going to talk with him whether you like it or not. He is a Prime, you are not. He is in charge. I know talks with him can be awkward and can hurt, believe me. I've had enough of those to last

me a lifetime. I know it's not easy, but you _will_ listen to what he has to say."

With that said, Ironhide began carrying Silverstreak to what he was sure was his doom.


	2. Fight

Second Chapter! :)

* * *

Silverstreak stared down into his energon miserably, hiding in the dark corner. He didn't feel like he needed the energy provided by the delicious drink, but it gave him an excuse to just stay out of his room and away from Bumblebee. The yellow mech seemed distant from him lately. It was if he didn't understand where Silverstreak was coming from. Besides, he was angry that the young mech had attacked Optimus.

Just the thought of the Prime made the boy's anger burn hot. Optimus had taken away something that he took great delight in. It had been taken away for an undetermined amount of time. Optimus had told him that he could not go into battle with the Decepticons until he could control himself. It wasn't fair! Silverstreak could control himself as well as any mech could in most situations. It was just the cruelty of humans that had him hurting people.

He growled and stood, ignoring the energon. He needed to get out of the base. Just to get away from everybody. He rushed through the halls and into the open air. He hurried towards the forest and relaxed when he got into the shadows of the trees. It was good to be alone again. Sudden tiredness engulfed him and he went to his little clearing and relaxed against a tall tree. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

_There was a young looking mech sitting alone, looking up to the stars. Soft whines escaped his vocalizer and he placed his head in his hands. He sighed softly and looked back up._

_"Primus, please, _please_ send us somebody who'll understand us, somebody who'll lead us. Somebody we can trust. Somebody like this Optimus Prime we keep hearing about from the older mechs. And, if it's not too much to ask, please let him be nice. We need somebody nice."_

Silverstreak awoke suddenly to the sound of sirens and leaped up eagerly, ready to fight…Oh wait, he couldn't. He growled and sullenly walked back to base, where the Autobots had already loaded up and gone. He walked to his room and settled on the berth after grabbing a book to read. He was bored almost immediately and quickly fell asleep again; he had nothing better to do.

This time when he woke up, it was to Bumblebee limping into the room, his expression dark. Silverstreak refused to look at the large mech and instead turned to face away from him. Bumblebee snorted.

"Oh, come now, Sam," he said irritably. "I know you're upset you couldn't come, but you could at least ask how it went."

"I don't really care," Silverstreak lied, his voice angry.

"Sam," Bumblebee admonished, sitting on the berth. "Talk to me. Believe it or not, I can understand. Back when the war first began, I wasn't allowed to fight. I was only a youngling."

Silverstreak sat up and spun to look at his guardian. "Youngling? Is that what this is about?"

"What?"

"It's because I'm a youngling, isn't it? Well?" Silverstreak demanded.

"It…well, yes. That's part of the reason. You put yourself in extremely dangerous situations when you're fighting and we are all worried about you," Bumblebee admitted.

"You know what?" Silverstreak asked coldly. "Just frag off."

"Sam!"

"No, I'm tired of being treated like a youngling. I can't help that I am one, but I was human and humans mature much faster than mechs!"

"You were just a teenager, Sam!"

"I'm over twenty human years old now!"

"That's a newborn babe by our time!"

"Oh, so now I'm nothing but a baby?!"

"That's not what I said!"

"Um, are we interrupting something?" a hesitant voice asked.

Silverstreak and Bumblebee turned to see First Aid standing in the open doorway, Blaster and Cliffjumper standing wide-eyed behind him.

"What the hell do you want?" Silverstreak demanded, his optics flaring as he crossed his arm and purposefully looked away from Bumblebee.

"Optimus wants to speak to everybody, including you," First Aid replied slowly.

"Yeah? Well I don't want to speak to him!" Silverstreak spat. "I don't even want to see him!"

Bumblebee finally lost his temper. "You are going and that is final!"

The yellow mech snatched Silverstreak up and strode out of the room, the other three following and whispering to each other in Cybertronian about what was going on with the boy and his guardian.

"I've never seen them fight like this before," First Aid murmured.

"I know. I don't know what to think about it. If they aren't careful, one of them is going to get hurt," Blaster whispered back.

"And it'll probably be Bumblebee," Cliffjumper replied.

They all looked at each other and knew that it probably would be Bumblebee that would get hurt. Silverstreak had more power than most mechs. In fact, the only mechs that matched his strength and ability would be Optimus and maybe Ironhide.

Meanwhile, Silverstreak was struggling violently in Bumblebee's grasp, doing everything he could to break the grip, but the yellow mech knew just how to hold him that he couldn't break out, no matter how strong he was. The only thing he could do to get out would be to shock his guardian, and as angry as he was at Bumblebee, he didn't want to hurt him.

He finally gave up and glared viciously at any Autobot that passed them and had the audacity to look at him. Optimus looked surprised when they got to the rec. room.

"Why are you carrying Silverstreak like that?"

"Because he wouldn't come willingly," Bumblebee snapped, giving Silverstreak a threatening squeeze before throwing him onto a table none too gently.

"Glitch head," Silverstreak muttered, standing and childishly crossing his arms.

"Shut up, _Silverstreak_," Bumblebee snapped.

Something inside the silver boy broke in that moment. Bumblebee always, _always_ called him Sam. Though Silverstreak had always pretended to be annoyed by it, it had grown on him over the years, and now that Bumblebee had broken that close friendship bond, he lost it.

"Go to the Pit, Bee," he spat, his hands sparking as his temper flared.

"Oh big surprise," Bumblebee said sarcastically. "The silver _freak_ can't control himself. You know, this is why you're always in trouble. You're immature and irresponsible, just like younglings. I'm glad I never was a youngling."

"But you told me-"

"Yes, and I was created as a_ mechling, _not a youngling. Mechlings are young adults by your standards, and though we still aren't fully mature, I was more mature than you!"

"Oh, so _I'm_ the freak? You didn't even have a childhood," Silverstreak growled, well aware of the many pairs of optics on them.

"Yeah? So what? It doesn't seem like I missed much. The war destroyed our home, and your home is still intact. You will _never_ know what it is like to miss Cybertron. You are an Earthling! Not a Cybertronian!"

"You are dead wrong, you yellow-bellied, glitch-headed, slagger! I can and do miss Cybertron. It was a whole hell of a lot better there!"

"Oh? And why is that?" Bumblebee asked, his voice mocking.

"Because you and Optimus weren't there!"

That shut the yellow mech up and he just stared at the silver boy in the dead silence of the room. A soft whine escaped his vocalizer and he began intaking air heavily.

"You don't mean that, Silverstreak," Optimus said, walking forward and standing beside Bumblebee.

"I do to!" Silverstreak growled. "And you know what else? I wish I was still on Cybertron! I wish that there were other younglings that would actually get what it's like living in the fragged up world that you left for them! I want to go home!"

There was a crack and a flash of light and Silverstreak was suddenly falling. He gasped and tried to grab onto something, _any_thing, but there was simply nothing but air. He fell for about five minutes before landing, surprisingly gently, with a grunt on something slanted. He slid down and landed on the ground….only it wasn't the ground he was used to. It was…metal!

"Cybertron!" he exclaimed in Cybertronian. "I'm home!"

He leaped up and happily celebrated his escape from Optimus and Bumblebee for a moment, relishing his freedom, then there was a noise and he froze and hid, sparks rising to his fingers in defense. He saw the mech from his vision and tilted his head curiously. What? Was he a…?

"H-hello?" the mech asked nervously, speaking in the only language the mech knew. "Is somebody there?"

Silverstreak debated his options before speaking up. "Autobot or Decepticon?"

"Um, well, I'm not allowed to fight. Ultra Magnus says so, but if I had to choose…Autobot," he said, looking around.

The sparks died down as Silverstreak stepped out and the mech's optics widened.

"What are you?"

"I am…different," Silverstreak replied, loathing how human he looked. "My designation is Silverstreak. Yours?"

"I am…Mirage."


End file.
